


Same old Lang Syne

by Effenay



Series: Time Tests its Waters (Sherlolly) [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Set in S3 ep 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:41:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9540206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Effenay/pseuds/Effenay
Summary: 'He had it all figured out before he came back to London. He had the means of repaying her, somehow in some way. The more he spent time alone in isolation, the more he reflected about how she had been a catalyst to his survival."Reiterating the Sherlock and Molly scenes from "The Empty Hearse"





	

**Author's Note:**

> I know this is not exactly a very valentine's day plot but hey, a shipfic's a shipfic.  
> When I first saw the episode, it really reminded me of an oldie classic Dan Fogelberg's song "Same Old Lang Syne" and the story behind the song. It's not exactly a tune to everyone's taste in my gen, but its scenario play out almost similar to the thank you scene in The Empty Hearse episode. It's worth looking up, especially the backstory behind it. Anyway, enough from me, enjoy.

“Come to Baker Street after you’re done with your shift.”

One look on his face brought it all back. But not in the same way as before. There was a melancholy in the air as she watched him smiling warmly at her.

“You’re back,” she smiled as she nervously tucked a strand of hair to the back of her ear. “So does this mean that-”

“-Moriarty and his men will no longer be a threat to anyone else,” he finished her sentence with a nod of confirmation.

Molly opened her mouth but made a short pause. A stray thought told her how much she’s missed the way he handles his words.

“Does john kno-”

“-He took it rather appallingly,” he said curtly.

“…Who else knows you’re back?”

His answer was a wide grin before he said once more;

“After your shift, come to Baker Street.”

Without giving her a chance to say something, he began to make his way towards the exit as she saw a ghost of his smile before he disappeared from her view.

 _He’s back,_ Molly felt the need to pinch herself at the very idea of it. _He’s really back._

She walked towards the doorway, making sure that she wasn’t really seeing things. There he was, his back towards her as he walked further away from her view. She smiled as she was pleased to know that he returned safely from his task.

Raising the back of her left hand to her view, she eyed the diamond ring on her finger. Odd as it was, just as she was pleased to know that Sherlock had returned, she felt calmer than what she had expected. The steady rhythm that was beating in her chest told her that it was possible she might truly be over him.

 _Progress,_ she convinced herself, _a sign of progress._

She repeated the words like a mantra in her mind’s eye, unconsciously ignoring the uncertainty in her heart.

* * *

 

Two years were enough, long enough for him to ever realize the many things. All his life he shrouded himself with knowledge, information, drugs; anything but people. But there came Lestrade, Molly, John, Mrs Hudson; people who not only tolerated him, but actually cared enough to be concerned.

The first few months being away gave him enough time to realize that there were many things he took for granted. He questioned it. Rationalized it. Tried to understand it. Was it not because he was no longer able to access the necessary facilities? Or was it the very idea that outside of London, rather, outside of the small band of people that he trusted were absent during that period?

He thought he could handle it. He entered this world alone, surely, handling it wouldn’t be so difficult alone.

The certainty he felt was that two years in isolation was enough to make him value them even more. With that knowledge in mind he began rehearsing the scenarios in his mind palace of the numerous things he’d do when he came back. Of course, reality was far crueller than the imagination; realizing how much he screwed up with his reunion with John Watson. Not to mention interrupting a dinner date where his good friend was about to propose to a woman with an intriguing profile.

At the very least, he’d hope that he won’t screw up this time around with the very person he was about to see later in the day.

Sherlock stared at the crime-board, reviewing some of the finery details he spotted with every photograph that was sent to his phone. There was a flaw to several suspects that eliminated them from the list of people of interest. Crossing out the images as he moved on to the next. A few casual texts from some people within the homeless network, narrowing down the suspects through the process of elimination.

When the hour drew closer to one in the afternoon, Sherlock knew that Molly would have finished her shift a while ago and she would be on her way to Baker Street. Estimating the time, he calculated her arrival at least five to ten minutes after one o’clock.

It’s not exactly strange for him to anticipate her arrival. But something felt different as he recalled the tiny sparkle of light that refracted from the ring on her finger.

_Left hand + ring on the third finger= engagement_

The ring was rather noticeable when she tucked the stray strand of hair behind her ear unconsciously. How he took it, he wouldn’t really know what to think of it at first. At the very least he was pleased to see her.

He turned to the window and spotted the said person walking towards the building. Exactly ten minutes after one-o’clock. The wood on the steps sang as Molly took one step closer at a time to his room. Sherlock smiled in anticipation, silently counting the seconds it would take for her to reach her destination.

  1. _2\. 1-_



“You wanted to see me?”

“Yes,” Sherlock spun around and faced her.

“Molly,” he stepped a few steps closer. "Would you-”

He paused for a thought: _How should I put this?_

“-Would you like to-”

On that brief moment the two of them said in unison:

“-Have dinner?”

“-solve crimes…”

A short pause of silence ensued as he gave her a dubious look. She in turn made an odd face of her own.

“Um… solve crimes…?” she asked him.

“Ah yes,” he cleared his throat. “Since John refuses to cooperate with me.”

“Oh,” she nodded slowly, narrowing her eyes as she was clearly puzzled by the statement. “I’m sorry but did something happen?”

“Oh nothing,” he quickly said. “Nothing for you to worry about. Now, as I said: do you want to solve crimes with me?”

She huffed a little, surprise and puzzlement clearly painted on her features.

“Of-Of course,” she answered as she smiled nervously. “I’d love to-I mean, I don’t mind at all.”

“Splendid,” he nodded, satisfied with her response. “I have a client who’ll be arriving in less than five minutes from now, so please, by all means take a seat and make yourself at home.”

“Wait,” she said. “Why isn’t John…I mean, wouldn’t it be better if you had someone else assist you?”

“Don’t doubt yourself Molly, you’re a pathologist tasked to perform post- mortems. You’re perceptive enough to pick things up, I’m sure that you’ll do fine.”

“…Um, okay.”

* * *

 

Molly set her bag adjacent a chair after she hung her coat and scarf onto the available pegs on the wall. Although she became more confident in herself when she presented herself before Sherlock, little tinges of doubt hung in the air as she tried to find ground of what was in front of her.

After all that time of swooning herself over this particular man, all of a sudden she has all of his attention to herself. It’s always funny how it seemed easier to face your crush when you’re definitely certain you’ve moved on. Or so she told herself.

“Is there anything that I have to do or-”

“No, nothing in particular,” said Sherlock. “I just need a second opinion of things while I’m on a case. We’ll be dealing with one or two clients then we’ll be meeting Lestrade later in afternoon, a few things might come along the way.”

It wasn’t long before their first client, rather, a pair of _clients_ enter the room. After a short introduction, they began telling them about their case, only to have the man ramble about someone else’s line of work. Sherlock brushed it off as he stood whilst listening, scoffing at what he had just heard.

It only was new to Molly to see the great Sherlock Holmes in his work mode, but it wasn’t surprising to see how snappy he was in his treatment towards his clients. Suddenly aware of her position she couldn’t help but asked him;

“Are you sure about this?”

“Absolutely,” he answered curtly.

“Shouldn’t I be making notes?”

“If that makes you feel better.”

“It’s just that that’s what John says he does, so if I’m being John-”

“You’re not being John, you’re being yourself.”

Hearing those words brought a proud smile on her face, hearing his assurance that she was anything but John’s replacement. But for whatever reason there was for having her there, Molly began to doubt why she was needed in the first place. It seemed apparent that Sherlock easily solved every client’s problems within less than a minute.

* * *

 

Despite whatever denials he’s had regarding with human relations, he wouldn’t deny that the need of an assistant helps his thinking process run a little smoother through the means of a two-way conversation. But having to get used to not hearing his former flatmate’s side comments while they were on a case was slowly becoming quite the distraction.

“What is it?” said the pathologist as he lifted his phone to get a signal. “You’re onto something aren’t you?”

“Mm,” he muttered. “Maybe.”

 _“Show off,”_ John’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Shut up, John,” Sherlock muttered.

“What?” Molly asked.

“Hmm, nothing,” he said as he continued hovering his magnifying glass over the scene.

As of this point, they were in situated within an abandoned basement; a clothed skeleton propped onto a chair, sitting in front of the desk. He hovered his magnifying glass over the tid-bits he saw on the corpse, he picked up his tweezers and used it to lift up the collar of the clothed corpse.

With Molly assisting him, he found that it was without a doubt easier as she was not only quick on picking things up, she never questioned or made silly remarks that might have made her look like a fool. Following his lead without question made him more or less aware of how thoughtfully considerate she is with him or with everyone else. Of course, he never thought John was the opposite of that, but it was often the case where John would need to be dragged kicking and screaming (figuratively of course) in order to get him to cooperate when the matter calls for it. It was only an afterthought did it occur to Sherlock that Molly had always been cooperative with him.

“Is this gonna be your new arrangement?” asked Lestrade, gesturing at the pathologist.

“Just giving it a go,” Sherlock answered.

“Right. So, John?”

“Not in the picture anymore.”

_With good reason._

As far as he’s concerned, Sherlock figured it would take a lot longer for things to mend between friends. Or even better still, there might not even be a chance at all. Brushing the idea aside, he moved away from the table, overlooking the crime scene.

* * *

 

As the day passed them by, with their last case for the day dealing with a man obsessed of trains; Molly began to worry. The last case with Lestrade opened her eyes to the kind of work Sherlock does for a living; a world filled with fascinating cases filled with mysteries that challenges the mind’s eye. The sort of world where she had always wanted to cross since the first time she’s ever read their accounts through John’s blog. But she knew that if she were to continue on spending time with the man whom she had admired, it wouldn’t be fair to the man whom she had promised to marry.

 _Does he know?_ She couldn’t help but wonder. It wouldn’t even take a man with a sharp eye to notice the diamond ring on her finger. To the few who knew her well were quick enough to point it out to her.

After their current client had given the man a case to work with, they were making their exit from the flat, only to have Sherlock stop at the top of the stairs. His eyes were shut tight as he stills his movements. In an almost meditative trance, it appeared as though he was no longer in touch with the world he was standing on.

Molly looked up from the bottom of the stairs and climbed up slowly, a scenery she had only encountered once in the lab at some point. By now, although she wasn’t familiar with this side of him, she knew better than to not disturb him.

His eyes then flickered open, his thoughts spilling out of his mouth as he said;

“The journey between those stations usually takes five minutes. That journey took ten minutes – ten minutes to get from Westminster to St James’s Park. So I’m going to need maps – lots of maps, older maps, all the maps.”

“Right,” she said as he began to scale down the steps.

“Fancy for some chips?”

 The question caught her off-guard.

“What?”

“I know a fantastic fish shop just off the Marylebone Road,” he said as he walked passed her. “The owner always gives me extra portions.”

“Did you get him off a murder charge?”

“No, I helped him put up some shelves.”

“…Sherlock.”

_Why are you asking me this?_

“What was today about?”

_Why of all days, of all those times; you’re being nice to me?_

“Saying thank you,” he answered.

“For what?”

“Everything you did for me.”

* * *

 

“It’s okay,” Molly said as she took a few steps down to the bottom of the staircase. “It was my pleasure.”

“No, I mean it,” Sherlock insisted.

He had it all figured out before he came back to London. He had the means of repaying her, somehow in some way. The more he spent time alone in isolation, the more he reflected about how she had been a catalyst to his survival. How cooperative she’s been. How she wouldn’t question it for a single thought despite the clear doubts in her mind. A figure of guilt just as she was one of the few he had been most grateful for. Someone like that deserved more than just a simple word of thanks.

“I don’t mean ‘pleasure.’ I mean, I didn’t mind. I wanted to,” she said.

He took a step closer to her and out of the fullness of his heart, he spoke sincerely;

“Moriarty slipped up. He made a mistake. Because the one person he thought didn’t matter at all to me was the one person that mattered the most. You made it all possible.”

He drew in his breath upon the clear knowledge of her current relationship status and added;

“But you can’t do this again, can you?”

* * *

 

His words felt more sincere in her heart. A melancholic pain that hovered over her. Painful as it was, the very words she wanted to hear no longer became something so much as the source of her joyous heart. It was almost as if it was a farewell to the sentiments that she had clung onto.

“I had a lovely day,” she began, almost stumbling on her words as she spoke. “I’d love to- but I just…”

She eyed the ring on her finger.

“Congratulations by the way,” he said.

She never expected anything less for him to take note of it.

“He’s not from work,” she began, suddenly feeling the need to explain herself. “We met through friends. The old fashion way.”

Before she could stop herself, she found herself rambling like a nervous wreck. “We ... he’s got a dog ... we-we go to the pub on weekends and he ... I’ve met his mum and dad and his friends and all his family- I don’t know why I’m telling you this-”

“I hope you’ll be very happy, Molly Hooper,” he said in a low but gentle voice. “You deserve it.”

Their eyes transfixed onto each other, Molly was suddenly aware of the considerably small gap stood between them like a wall of glass.

“After all,” he added after a short pause. “Not all men you fall for turned out to be sociopaths.”

“No?” she spoke silently.

“No.”

Sherlock drew closer to her attentively, crossing the line that stood between them as he smiled. She wasn’t sure whether his smile was that of melancholy or that of gratitude. Her heart beating frantically against her chest, unaware of her shoulders heaving. He bent his head down low, she closed her eyes as his lips touched her cheek for a kiss.

The moment he drew himself away, he strode himself out the door, leaving her behind without looking back. The gesture in itself was likened to the farewell that was long overdue, given that he left her flat without another word.

_“Not all men you fall for turned out to be sociopaths.”_

“Maybe it’s just my type,” she said to herself, smiling as her eyes watered at the thought.

Seeing him again gave her closure to her feelings, as she felt it was almost like a privilege to have fallen for a man she could never have.

 _This isn’t goodbye at least,_ she thought. She’d expect to see him again at the morgue, after all.

The snow began to fall as the day drew itself to a close. As she walked out of the house, seeing his back turned towards her as he walked away; she then felt that familiar pain that throbbed in her chest. The sentiments of the ‘would-haves’ and the ‘could-haves’ that she held over that course of two years slowly melted away with every step farther away from him.

With one last look, she told herself once more.

_Progress, Molly. It’s a sign of progress._

Underneath her gloves, she played with the grooves of the ring underneath the layer of fabric; reminding her and telling herself that she’s moved on.

* * *

 

Sherlock didn’t look back as he walked himself out of the house, satisfied of having to express his long overdue word of thanks. He made a few mental notes to keep his hands to himself if ever he were to need a favour from her, seeing that she was walking down the aisle towards a promising marriage.

He meant every word he said, recalling the sensation of a short pang in his chest as he said it. He was happy for her, as he knew how much sociopaths like himself doesn’t deserve her attention.

_I’m happy for you, Molly Hooper._

At the very least, he could only pray that she would be in the safe hands of someone who could give her the happiness she deserved.

**Epilogue**

“This is Tom. Tom, this is everyone.”

John took one good look at the man who’s hands were interlocked with Molly’s. After the long months of not seeing certain familiar faces, one look at how happy Molly appeared seemed unreal. But that didn’t faze his doubt as he saw how eerily similar this ‘Tom’ was to his former flatmate.

The hair, his fashion sense; somehow he was beginning to suspect whether this really should be a concern on Molly’s part. But seeing her wide smiles made it seemed all the more difficult at the idea of approaching the subject as it seemed apparent she wasn’t aware of the striking similarities between the two men.

One look from Sherlock and immediately, John figured out that he wasn’t the only one who’s noticed it.

“Did you-um-”

“I’m not saying a word,” his friend interjected.

“No, best not,” John agreed.

Without his notice, Sherlock looked at his scarf, seemingly self-conscious about the way he tied his scarf around his neck.

 

> _"Just for a moment I was back at school_
> 
> _And felt that old familiar pain_
> 
> _And, as I start to make my way back home_
> 
> _The snow turned into rain_
> 
> _-Dan Fogelberg, Same Old Lang Syne_
> 
> * * *
> 
>  

**Author's Note:**

> My works are 90% not beta read so by all means don't hesitate to drop a comment. ;)


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